


A Stydia Christmas

by alexsupertramp



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexsupertramp/pseuds/alexsupertramp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy cuteness between Stiles and Lydia as they join the rest of the pack at Derek's loft for a secret santa gift exchange</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Stydia Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to eclipselydia!! ~your secret santa ^-^  
> **(I only write fluff, but anyone can make a request of a promt/pairing/fandom/etc. if you'd like :) )

Walking around her room and going through her nightly routine, Lydia felt nothing different than if tonight was any other night. The soft lyrics of “La petite Mort” filled her room as she brushed her hair, lightly humming along to the lyrics and Coeur de Pirate’s voice.

_“Car si l’on me perd, c’est seulement pour rester la tienne…”_

She settled underneath her satin sheets, a wave of calmness washing over her that a few years ago she would have never associated with Christmas Eve. She felt the fleeting excitement was an inevitable side effect of growing older, although Stiles was ready to fight her on that when it was mentioned earlier that day. The conversation had stuck with her, though eventually she just shrugged it off with not all people having the capability to reach such a level of immaturity as Stiles. But not in a bad way. She actually found enjoyment in his light-hearted demeanor, even if it was something she didn’t care to admit.

Only the subtle scent of peppermint cookies wafting up from the kitchen below gave any indication of Christmas as she began to fall asleep. It was a peaceful, short lived slumber soon disrupted by the slight creak of her window being opened. Her eyes opened wide with frightful anxiety, pupils slowly adjusting to the darkness. She saw a human form stumble over the window ledge and panic hit her in waves. Lydia’s piercing screams broke the silence as she frantically tried to push off her bed and away from the intruder. The screams grew louder, her body thrashing when the stranger reached his hands out to touch her.

“Lydia! Lydia!” it was a familiar voice.

She quieted long enough to get a good look at the man with his hands protectively placed on her shoulders and found herself looking straight into the eyes of Stiles.

“Lydia, what’s wrong? Are you having a banshee episode? Is someone going to die?” Stiles’ voice was worried, but also stern enough to show he was ready to take action.

Anger flashed in her eyes as she hissed, “You’re going to be dead if you don’t tell me what the hell what you’re doing breaking into my room at night!”

“Oh, right.” Stiles dropped his hands and they both stood up, Lydia smoothing out her nightgown and again settling into bed with anger painted all over her face. She crossed her arms and pursed her lips waiting for an explanation.

Stiles tentatively sat next to her on the very edge of the bed, his hand close but not yet touching the curve of her thigh under the sheets. “I was thinking about earlier. Y’know, your whole anti-Christmas, very grinchy state of mind–“

“Hey, I never said I was anti-Christmas!”

He ignored the interruption and continued, “And how I wanted to change it. I thought that maybe by me coming over and unintentionally giving you a heart attack, we could experience Christmas together. Real Christmas, like the kind you feel when you’re young and too excited to sleep and waking at dawn to see all your presents. I have this very distinct tradition with Scott, but I figured you were more in need of it this year.” His eyes lifted to try and read her expression, shyly smiling and hoping he wasn’t making a fool of himself. “Is this music…do you speak French?” he added as an afterthought, cocking his head to get a better listen and tear his gaze from the highly inquisitive Lydia.

“I speak 8 languages Stiles. And yes, of that 8, French is included.” She stopped talking, but he knew better than to think that she was done speaking. He felt it best to wait for her to mull over her next words and in the following few seconds he contemplated what the other 7 could be. Obviously English, he knew from the Bestiary that both Latin and its archaic counterpart were well in her range, her Spanish got them all through their trip to Mexico…

“I should kick you out. I should make you leave and go back to sleep.” Her voice brought him back to the conversation and he took in his surroundings for a second time. He always felt himself paying special attention to Lydia more than anything. He noticed the slight curls in her strawberry blonde hair and the way it fell off her shoulders, disappearing beneath the sheets she held up to her chest. He noticed her green eyes and how she forced fierceness into them just to hide the soft and caring under layer that had a habit of creeping forward in moments like this. He noticed the roundness of her lips, he couldn’t not notice with the urge to kiss her constantly trying to surface. He noticed each and every word she spoke, clinging to the hope that there was more to her statement.

“But…?” he edged her on.

“But, you did come all this way and I at least want to know what this tradition is.”

Stiles sighed, relieved. “Okay, but promise you won’t laugh.”

She gave a slight nod and he responded with a lopsided smile. He situated himself better on the bed, his body now completely facing hers, before he started talking. “So I guess it started this one Christmas Eve when me and Scott were 4 or 5. You know, the age when you start getting really excited about the concept of Santa– the idea that this fat red-suited man comes into your house at night to leave you and every other kid in the world presents for good behavior. Anyway, I was over at Scott’s house, or he was over at mine, I don’t know, but together we decided that this would be the year we’d catch him in the act. We’d stay up all night, just staring out the window waiting for this magical sled to appear and we let our minds trick us into believing all of it. That flickering streetlight became Rudolf’s nose; the sound of the air conditioner coming on was suddenly Santa landing on the roof. And we stayed up like that, completely happy with the excitement of possibility. We’d wake up in the morning, disappointed in ourselves and the fact that we fell asleep on the floor in front of the window, usually with a blanket draped over the 2 of us that one of our moms had placed.”

Stiles paused to study Lydia’s expression, mostly hoping that she wasn’t going to mock him. He was pleasantly surprised to find her smiling and he took it as encouragement. “I guess we’ve outgrown it by now,” he continued, “but it’s kind of nice to just pretend for one night that you’re still a little kid… to let yourself believe in the magic of Christmas. Something I hear you need help with, by the way.” At that he lifted his eyebrows accusingly.

“So what?” she jeered back. “You’re going to make me stare out a window all night?” She tried to sound irritated but Stiles could see right through her.

“Lydia, I think we both know there isn’t a person alive who can make you do anything.” He stood then, casually reaching for a folded up blanket at the foot of her bed as he made his way over to her window to sit atop the bench seat clad with pillows. Glancing over his shoulder to look at her, he added, “I think you want to stare out a window all night.”

“Well I think you’re a little too full of yourself.” She again pursed her lips and remained seated in bed.

Stiles sighed exasperatedly but refused to let his spirits sink. “Please?” he tried one last time, his hand extended towards her. “Will you trust me?”

After a few moments of contemplation, Lydia finally rolled her eyes and made quite a scene of detangling herself from her sheets as she moved around the bed to take Stiles’ hand and sit beside him on the small bench. He wrapped the blanket around the both of them as they nuzzled together attempting to get comfortable.

“So why aren’t you with Scott? Why me?” she asked, flickering her eyes from her reflection in the window pane to the boy sitting next to her.

“I was with him earlier, came from his house actually. He invited Kira over and they had been studying before I got there, but we still wanted to keep the tradition and she seemed cool with it. That lasted maybe 20 minutes before they both fell asleep on me. I left after that.”

“Pretty sure you got played there, Stiles.” He could see her smirk only in the reflection.

“Oh, definitely. I barely made it 2 steps down the hall before I heard Kira giggling. I don’t mind though,” the corners of his mouth turned upward in a small smile. “They’re really happy together and I’d much rather be with you.” He stole a glance at her then and he thought that maybe he saw a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks, but he told himself it was probably just his imagination.

They sat in silence, not sure where to go from there until finally Lydia spoke. “I don’t see anything, Stiles.”

“Well that’s because you’re not looking hard enough.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and pointed to a yard across the street. “There, look at the fresh snow. Do you the tracks?”

“Yes, The Millers have a cat.” She only sounded a little exasperated and Stiles took that as a small victory.

“No,” he shook his head. “Reindeer tracks, Lydia. You can see the hoof shape!”

“I can also a see a lunatic.” She turned her head to stare into his eyes but there was no malice in her gaze.

Stiles laughed and nudged her, skewing her balance and causing her to laugh in response. As she straightened her posture, she again looked to Stiles with a small smile playing on her lips. “Lean back,” she instructed, gripping the blanket tighter.

His brows furrowed momentarily but did as she said nonetheless. He rotated his body facing her so he could rest his back against the corner of the wall that met the window. To his surprise, she then did the same, resting her back against his chest in a comfortable cuddle.

“I’m tired.” She sighed, and he looked to find her reflection in the window.

“You can sleep if you want.” He mumbled into her hair, his nose gently placed on top of her head.

“You should too. We have to be at Derek’s in the morning for the secret Santa exchange.”

“I know, I know.” He reassured her as he watched her face in the window. He saw her eyes close and he held her as she fell asleep, growing sleepy himself.

***

Stiles awoke in the morning with empty arms, no trace of Lydia in the room. He sat up and stretched in an attempt to soothe his stiff back from sleeping in a window bench all night when he heard soft footsteps approaching. Lydia entered then with nothing on but a towel she clutched around herself, her hair soaked from the shower.

“You’re up,” she spoke quickly, clearly in a bit of a rush. “We have half an hour to get to Derek’s if we want to be on time, which is looking doubtful. I have to get dressed so you need to leave– there’s pancakes downstairs and some extra toothbrushes in the guest bathroom if you need one.”

Stiles nodded and exited the room, closing the door behind him. He shuffled down the stairs with sleep still in his system too much to properly move his feet and soon smelt the breakfast Lydia had mentioned. There was a hint of blueberry that made his mouth water in anticipation. He wondered who the cook was– Lydia or her mother who he could hear in the other room watching TV– as he made himself a plate. He fumbled around awkwardly for a few minutes as he tried to locate the silverware drawer before sitting down at the dining table.

Moments later, Mrs. Martin walked in curiously, obviously having heard the clatter of multiple drawers being opened beforehand.

“Hello, Stiles.” She smiled warmly. Stiles raised his hand in greeting since his mouth was too stuffed with food to talk.

“Would you care for some milk, or orange juice perhaps?” He could easily see how alike Lydia and her mother were, both being naturally perfect hostesses.

“Yes, milk is fine. Thank you.” He answered after swallowing a particularly large bite. He continued eating as he watched her pour him a glass, nodding respectfully as she placed it next to his plate.

“So Stiles,” she began casually. “Are you dating my daughter?”

It took all he had not to choke on his drink from the shock of the question. “Um, no ma’am.” He answered nervously.

“That’s a shame,” she sighed, Stiles raising his eyebrows. “You seem like a nice boy. She could use nice after Jackson. He became awfully shady those last few months before disappearing to England. And who could forget Aiden.” He watched her shake her head disdainfully.

“I like you, Stiles. But don’t tell her I said anything.” She walked over then and politely touched his shoulder before exiting. She stopped at the doorway to add, “And next time, you can use the front door.”

Stiles blushed slightly and was left feeling oddly pleased.

After finishing the pancakes and milk, he felt it necessary to clean his dishes before making his way to the guest bathroom. The small room was modestly decorated with mint green wallpaper and a replica Monet painting, the shower curtain adorned with matching flowers. He stood at the sink staring into the mirror above it. He gently traced underneath his eyes, his ever present dark circles less dark today after a peaceful, albeit stiff, sleep. Dragging his hands away from his face and directing his gaze to the adjacent wood cabinet, he reached inside to find dozens of unopened toothbrush packages. They were the kind the dentist office gives out after a checkup. He picked one at random to use and 2 minutes later he again inspected himself in the mirror. He still felt and looked clean from the shower he had had before coming over the night before and his clothes smelt like laundry detergent. He deemed his attire as passable and made his way back up to Lydia’s room.

The door of her bedroom was slightly ajar and Stiles took this as an invitation to come in. His eyes immediately focused on Lydia, now dressed in a black skirt, tights, impossibly high black heels, and a gray festive sweater. She had a specific way of dressing that always made her look suitable for a red carpet. “I’m ready now.” She told him, her Secret Santa gift in hand.

“Good, good. And only 10 minutes behind schedule.” He teased.

Stiles fumbled with his keys in his pocket as they made their way to the entrance, stopping at the coat rack for Lydia’s designer red pea coat. The outside world was blanketed with snow that crunched slightly as the both of them walked towards his beat-up Jeep. Once they were both in and the engine sputtered to life, music began to blare through the old speakers. Stiles immediately reached out to turn down the volume and mumbled an apology as they made their way downtown. Lydia recognized the band as All Time Low, specifically remembering the poster of them in Stiles’ bedroom. Two thirds of the way through the holiday themed song she found herself mouthing the words, which did not go unnoticed by Stiles who smiled happily at the road.

_“Wrap me up like a present and put me away/ and when it gets cold I'll be yours/ Let the bells ring on a fool's holiday…”_

***

A 15 minute drive later, they pulled onto the street of Derek’s loft, not yet a full hour late. Stiles placed his hand gently on the small of Lydia’s back as they made their way up the stairs and through the front door. Holiday cheer all but slapped them in the face after crossing the threshold. The usual dreariness of the apartment loft was instead replaced with strings of multi-colour lights and silver garland, a short Christmas tree stood humbly in the corner adorned with pinecones and glittery ornaments, 3 poorly constructed but festive gingerbread houses lined the countertop. Scott and Kira, sat on the couch with a semi-uncomfortable looking Liam standing nearby, Malia leaning on a bar stool in the kitchenette idly chatting with her older cousin. Derek looked up from his conversation as they entered.

“Took you long enough.”

Scott rolled his eyes playfully and stood up. “It doesn’t matter, we can start now.”

They all congregated around the couch, Malia passing out all the anonymous gifts to their recipients. Deaton had been kind enough to sort out all the names 2 weeks prior to keep the secret in secret Santa. The 7 of them took turns opening their presents, starting with Scott. He opened the rectangular package clad in blue snowman wrapping paper to find the complete set of the Star Wars movies.

“Oh, umm. Thanks.” He said looking around the room, unsure of his secret Santa’s identity.

“It’s from me.” Malia smiled proudly.

“Hmm,” Scott nodded to her. “I really…like it.”

Her smile quickly fell and she turned her pointed gaze to Stiles. “You said he’d love it!”

“I- I, I love it. I can make him love it.” Stiles stammered.

Scott laughed and reassured Malia that the gift was great as they moved onto Kira. She held a small white box topped with a dainty bow in her hands, opening it to reveal a set of gorgeous blue black stone earrings.

“Wow,” she gasped. “They’re beautiful.” She looked up with excitement at the group, wondering who it had been.

Lydia smiled warmly and said, “It’s lightning opal. I thought you might like it. Merry Christmas, Kira.”

The two hugged then and Liam took it as his cue to open his gift.

It was an equally small box, but the presentation was much less dainty. Inside was a steel ring etched with a crescent shape, a starburst pattern, and a circlet.

Before Liam could remark, Scott spoke up. “The sun, the moon, the truth. I was hoping it might make the shift a bit easier and maybe even help with your anger. Everybody needs a mantra, right?” he added with a small chuckle. Scott caught a look at the younger boy’s face and saw a slight look of gratification in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he heard Liam mumble. “Really, it’s perfect. Thanks, Scott.” The two smiled at each other before Liam broke away and continued, “Stiles, go.”

The gift Stiles held in his lap was skinny and tall and it took quite some time to open. There were a few minutes of delay as everyone scrambled around trying to find a pocket knife to open the cardboard box unearthed from the wrapping paper when Derek finally gave up and let his claws loose, easily breaking the tape. Inside the box was a brand new lacrosse stick, courtesy of Liam.

“Aw, thanks man. It’s great.” Stiles spun it around in the air a bit.

“Yeah, maybe now with a better stick you won’t suck so much.” Liam mused.

Stile’s smirk faded as he looked away mumbling something about it ‘not being the stick’s fault’.

“Okay, now Derek.” Kira exclaimed in excitement.

He unwrapped the small box to find a simple leather wallet. Flipping it open, he found that it contained various pictures of Scott and his pack. Derek himself was even in a few questionable ones, although he couldn’t ever remember a time when he was passed out drunk with a mischievous Stiles standing over him drawing on a sharpie mustache, but there he was, now with photo evidence to carry everywhere.

“Thanks, Kira. I guess. But I uh- I don’t really like you guys all that much.” He was teasing, of course, but his brooding exterior really sold the animosity and they all laughed.

Derek continued in an even more serious tone. “Malia, you should open yours now.”

She appeared confused at first, her gift only being an envelope. It held a tiny slip of paper but her eyes gave nothing away as she read it. In fact, there was a bit of panic in her expression when she finally surfaced. “Derek, what is this?”

He put a comforting hand on her shoulder and talked softly, familiarly. “Technically, you’re a Hale now. But with a psychopath like Peter being your father, I completely understand if we aren’t the family you’d like to associate yourself with. It’s not much of a family at all, really. But you have me, and with Peter in Eichen I wanted to step up. We have a lot of money and I can’t think of any better use for it than to put it towards your college fund.”

When he had finished, Malia’s eyes were sparkling with the beginnings of tears as she threw her arms around her cousin in a hug.

The sentimental moment lingered for awhile, and Stiles felt that now would be a good opportunity to present the last gift of the night.

“Lydia,” he whispered as everyone was preoccupied. “Come with me?” he asked with his hand extended.

She stood up, taking his hand and letting him lead her to a secluded corner. The rest of the pack was still clearly in view, but it was more quiet and private. The music could still be heard, and Hozier filled the air around them.

Stiles dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a white gold chain.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wrap it,” he said gently as he held it out to her.

She could see the necklace fully now. It wasn’t store bought, but instead a circular pendant hung from the chain. Except it wasn’t a pendant at all. She held it in her hand and recognized it as an old radio dial. Lydia looked into his eyes, waiting for him to speak.

“It’s a dial. Can I–“ he gestured awkwardly with his hands and she turned her back to him, holding her hair up and out of the way so he could fasten the clasp. When she faced him again, he continued. “I know that it’s hard on you, Lydia. I couldn’t imagine doing what you do, hearing what you do. But I made this for you. I- I wanted you to be able to turn down the voices every now and then.”

As he explained, Lydia absently stroked her new piece, turning the dial down down down down. She didn’t want to hear anything but the person standing in front of her now. Nobody had ever given her a gift like this. It was more than just a necklace. This gave her a renewed since of control. She could still be a banshee, but she could focus her energy where it counted. It was all symbolic, of course, but it meant the world to her. Stiles meant the world to her.

She leaned forward on her toes to press her lips against his, one hand clasping the necklace over her heart and the other pulling him closer. Stiles fell into the kiss with eagerness, enjoying every minute of it. He was vaguely aware of the song playing and he thought it sounded more beautiful than anything he’d ever heard before. Every aspect of life seemed suddenly better in the moments during the kiss.

_“Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know/ I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door…”_

Lydia pulled away then, resting her forehead on his. “Thank you,” she murmured as she placed another chaste kiss on his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Lydia.”


End file.
